


Please just give me something for the pain

by caught_your_phancy



Series: Charlotte sometimes [3]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Major Illness, Pre-Canon, Sick Child Character, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caught_your_phancy/pseuds/caught_your_phancy
Summary: Charlotte gets sick. Her uncles handle it as best they can.
Relationships: Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Series: Charlotte sometimes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665205
Kudos: 19





	Please just give me something for the pain

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Noah Kahan’s _Please_.
> 
> In case you spot any errors (grammatical or otherwise), please let me know in the comments. English is not my first language.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ray woke up to a soft voice whispering his partner’s name. 

Going by the stillness of the Kevin-shaped bulk in the corner of his eye, he could tell that said partner was still fast asleep; fortunately, as Kevin had come home nursing a headache, and with a fuse farther shortened by the sheer length of his work day. Ray was loath to have him disturbed again before a good night’s sleep had had the chance to ease some of the strain.

Ray sat up to look at the doorway, where he could just about discern the outline of Charlotte’s figure in the semi-darkness. She looked smaller than usual; her shoulders drawn up tight to her ears. 

Something was not right.

Careful not to jostle his partner, Ray slid out of bed and went to kneel at the little girl's feet. From up close, he could hear the strangled iterations of Kevin's name and the word uncle better, repeated over and over. "Charlotte, what is wrong?" he asked, gently raising his hand to her bicep, patting the exposed skin reassuringly. It was clammy to the touch. She was trembling all over.

Maybe it had only been a nightmare.

In the glow of the streetlights shining through the window in the hall, though, Ray could see silvery tear tracks running down her cheeks, and there were viscid stains on the front of her pajama top that smelled suspiciously like sick. Not (only) a bad dream, then.

He wasn’t sure if she had even heard him. Alarm bells were starting to go off in his brain, imaginary strident noises lending an additional sense of urgency to the situation. "Charlotte, dear," he repeated, more urgently, "Please tell me what is wrong." 

Charlotte, who had started hiccuping and was having a lot of trouble forming words other than her other uncle's name, mumbled: "H—hurts." 

"What doe—" Ray started to ask, before falling silent when she turned her head away from him to retch. She was now crying uncontrollably, taking heaving, open-mouthed breaths.

Someone stirred behind them. "Ray— _Charlotte_?" came Kevin's sleepy, then alarmed voice. For the first time in a while, Ray had to physically bite back a swear. By the sound of it, Kevin jumped from the bed, having the presence of mind to actually flick on a light, so the room was now brightly lit. Ray blinked at the change from the gloominess that he had been operating in before, but Charlotte let out an agonized, shot-animal-like groan in front of him. She squeezed her eyes shut, fresh tears pouring down her face. 

Kevin took her in his arms, in vain trying to soothe her while she made little hurt noises and folded herself as small as she could in his arms. Her breathing was hitching every so often and she looked like she was clutching Kevin frantically, hard enough to leave bruises. Kevin, meanwhile, was stroking her back and mumbling soothing words. He pressed his lips gently to her forehead and whispered urgently: “Ray, she’s burning up.”

That settled it; Ray rushed downstairs to get his jacket and the others’ coats, and shoes. They were getting her to the hospital, now. Neither he nor Kevin had any noteworthy experience in pediatrics and from what he could recall from their First Aid courses back at the Academy, this seemed serious enough that it would not simply blow over.

He hurried back up the stairs and met Kevin with Charlotte in his arms on the landing. With Charlotte still in his arms and shaking his head at Ray's offer to take over, Kevin donned his coat and sat down on an ottoman to slip into his shoes. He wasn’t even wearing any socks. He began bundling Charlotte up in a coat and a sweater to protect her from the cutting October-cold outside. She fussed feverishly, trying to bat away his hands when they attempted to close her zipper. Kevin actively _flinched_ when she looked up long enough to give him a tearful, betrayed look. This prompted Ray to take over. Exhausted though Charlotte was already, it didn’t take long for him to manage closing her coat.

Ray led them toward the car and Kevin passed his seat belt over himself and his pitiable, shivering charge. The drive felt surreal, traffic lights and headlights bathing Gertie’s leather interior and Kevin’s face in a nauseating mix of green and orange and harsh white. 

Once they got to the ER, they were asked to wait. A harried-looking nurse handed them an ice-pack, which Kevin bound in the handkerchief he always carried in his coat pocket, and gestured toward a few plastic seats set in a u-shape. Nearly vibrating out of his skin, Kevin held Charlotte to his chest. She was still occasionally making small noises, trying to burrow even further into his embrace. Eyes still firmly clenched shut, her bright red-hot cheeks alone would under ordinary circumstances have been cause for concern. 

Ray—policeman instincts kicking in—busied himself observing the other people in the ER, so as to not conspicuously stare at Kevin and Charlotte for an overly long period of time, in case it earned them unwanted attention. (And, because it prompted his thoughts to wander down the dangerous, sinuous path of what could be wrong with her and how serious it had the potential to be, which he categorically shut down.) 

A man sitting in front of them, bright red t-shirt pressed to his bleeding forearm, was keeping up a steady stream of conversation through his mobile phone in some type of French creole, and a little further two grandmotherly figures were paging through a heap of magazines and pointing things out to one another. Behind the reception counter, a middle-aged worker was occupied with sorting out a family’s health insurance papers and asked them the occasional question. Nurses and doctors walked in and out through the double swinging doors, mostly ignoring the hopeful glances the people in the waiting room directed their way.

Nobody seemed all that interested in the three of them.

They sat on the cheap, cold seats for what felt like hours. The minutes ticked away agonizing slowly, occasionally punctuated by the blaring of someone’s voice through the speaker, indicating a need for an anesthetist, RTT’s or—on one occasion—a code blue. Ray offered to take Charlotte for a little while, so as to give Kevin some respite from the clutching and the cold condensation of the ice-pack-cum-handkerchief wedged in between his chest and Charlotte’s forehead, but his partner shook his head resolutely. 

Ray thought he had never seen Kevin looking this dishevelled in public. His partner’s coat gaping half-open at his chest was on over his pajama shirt, and his bare, freckly ankles stood out starkly against the dark grey of the furniture surrounding him. His hands shook where he was holding Charlotte close, yet he shot Ray a signature incredulous look when he offered again to take over. It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t at the same time been anxiously chewing on his bottom lip.

Ray was aching to reach out, to try and reassure him with his touch, but could do nothing but give Kevin’s thigh a covert, reassuring squeeze in the midst of the bustling ER. Kevin met his eyes; scared periwinkle meshed into calmer maroon, and Ray prompted his partner to take a couple of deep breaths. He had dealt with this before—he reminded himself—had been much more exposed to the ER and hospitals in general than Kevin likely ever would be. It was his job to make sure both Charlotte and Kevin were alright, right now. There was no place for his own unease and uncertainty.

A fresh-faced nurse in her mid-twenties walked up to them after what the digital clock in the lobby assured Ray had only been the better part of half an hour. “Charlotte Cozner?” she asked, looking over at Kevin for confirmation. He nodded and stood up. Charlotte, who had gotten jostled by the movement, started sobbing again and some heads swivelled around to see what the noise was about. The two tiny grandmothers clucked sympathetically. 

Kevin followed the nurse to the front of the waiting room, shushing Charlotte softly as he moved. Ray followed behind them, but when the nurse motioned Kevin toward an examination room, she held out a hand in front of her to prevent Ray from coming along. “Sorry sir, but only parents are permitted in the examination room with the children.”

Kevin turned around, a frown creasing his brow. “But—” he began, a hairfine tremor in his voice, before Ray cut him off, “It is alright, Kevin. I will just go and find a phone to tell Martin and Christine what has happened.” The nurse nodded approvingly and disappeared into the examination room. Ray took a step closer to Kevin, still careful to maintain a respectable distance, and purposefully deepened his voice to a pitch that Kevin had in the past described as ‘calming’: “She will be okay. Don’t forget to breathe, dear.”

Kevin gave him a shaky hint of a smile, before heading for the room the nurse was in.

In the lobby of the ER, to the side of the entrance doors, Ray found a payphone and unearthed some loose change in the pocket of his jacket. He dialled the number Martin had given him in case of emergency.

After a few rings, a voice croaked: “Hello? Hello, Martin Cozner speaking.”

They’d most likely still been asleep; the time difference between here and Cape Verde was not that big, after all. Ray felt vaguely guilty disturbing their trip, especially given that Kevin had told him this was their first trip away together in a long time, but then this—in his eyes—rather qualified as an emergency. 

“Martin, this is Raymond Holt.”

“Raymond? Is everything all right over there?”

Ray hesitated for a fraction of a second, considering how he’d best phrase this: “Not quite. I’m calling from the Jacobi Medical Center. Charlotte got sick during the night and we are not sure yet what the problem is. Kevin is with the nurse, at present.”

Ray heard the creaking of the bed that must mean Martin had sat up. There was some sleepy mumbling on the other side of the line, followed by bustling and the scratching of a ballpoint pen on paper. More muffled conversation, then: “Can I hand Chris the phone for a bit?”

“Raymond, hi,” came Christine’s anxious sounding voice through the receiver before he could even answer, “How bad is it? Do you need us to come back?”

In the background, Ray thought he heard Martin tell her that the next flight out was not for another three days.

“Kevin is with the nurse,” Ray repeated. The machinery beeped. Thirty more seconds to wrap up the call. “I will call as soon as we know more. I would not go on cancelling the rest of your trip before we know what is wrong. It might just be a stomach bug, or something similar,” he added, trying for placating. 

“Thank you for calling, Raymond,” Christine said, “Please be in touch.”

“Of course, Christine. I will talk to you later. Goodbye.”

After this call, Ray sat back down in the ER. One of the elderly ladies had taken out her knitting and a small group of toddlers and younger kids were busy building lego structures with the blocks the hospital had provided, under the watchful eyes of their parents.

At a quarter past three, Kevin walked out again, accompanied by a different nurse, who was pushing a kid-sized gurney. Charlotte was on it, seemingly asleep, so small in the bright blue hospital robes with another ice-pack pressed to her forehead. Her hand was clutching three of Kevin’s fingers, compelling him to walk more slowly than usual and slightly hunched over. 

He waved Ray over, and the four of them passed through two sagegreen doors, before starting their journey through the warren of corridors that separated them from the pediatric ward. Ray wondered briefly what Kevin had spun them for him to get to come along.

“They said it’s only a migraine,” Kevin told him, “but she has a rather concerning fever, too. So they want to keep her overnight just to make sure that’s all it is. If she doesn’t get better by morning, things might be worse.” 

(Ray gracefully ignored the way his voice wobbled dangerously at the word ‘worse’.)

Nodding, Ray kept silent as he absorbed the words. Kevin was still worried: the absurd amount of verbal contractions alone spoke volumes. "I ought to call Christine again. I said I would as soon as we knew what was wrong."

Kevin hummed in agreement then said, "I suppose you’d better." 

Had Ray not known better, he would have said Kevin was the one they were in hospital for; the bruised crescents underneath his eyes contrasted almost violently with the concerning sheet-like paleness that his skin had turned, his gaze gleamed dark and feverish and his cheeks were nearly as red as Charlotte’s. The feeling of anxiety in Ray’s gut that had diminished as soon as he knew Charlotte would—most likely—be alright soon, went up again in a sharp spike, upon realizing that Kevin might actually have made himself physically sick with worry. 

They turned another corner and here the walls had been painted on: bumblebees and colourful woodland animals. Pediatric ward, read a plaque next to the front desk. The nurse wheeled the gurney with its curious appendage under the form of a grown man into the second door on the right. Ray followed. 

"Kevin," he said quietly, while the nurse was busy making the bed, "I will not be gone for long." Then, he addressed the nurse: "Excuse me, is there a phone nearby?" 

She motioned toward the door, and said: "There should be one by the doors, in the lobby. Right, then left again. Can't miss it." 

Thanking her, he stepped out of the room. 

He located the phone and dialled the number. Someone answered on the second ring. 

"Raymond. How is she?" 

Ray relayed the information Kevin had given him and there was a sigh of relief so great that he could hear it through the crackly connection. Christine asked him again if he would like for them to cut their trip short, but he assured her that if Charlotte’s state had not worsened by the morning, that there would be no need. They could enjoy their remaining four-day-stay on the white-sanded beaches of West-Africa’s paradisaic archipelago. (Christine had shown him the brochure so extensively that he was beginning to sound like a travel agent. Or, worse, like his _sister_.)

After having ended the conversation, Ray retraced his steps until he was standing in front of Charlotte's hospital room. He walked in. Someone had pulled the couch into a bed, and made it. Kevin seemed to have detangled himself from Charlotte's hand and was sitting on it, looking up when he heard Ray open the door. "Raymond," he acknowledged, rubbing a hand over his own face, “I—She—”. He cut himself off with a sigh that translated his exasperation into the open air. 

Ray looked his partner up and down, exhaustion writ all over his features. He was still in his dirty, humid-in-patches pajamas, shaking from the adrenaline come-down. He walked across the room and took a seat next to his Kevin. His rattled, exhausted Kevin who didn’t appear to be able to string a coherent sentence together. As there was no one in the room but them, he took his chances and leaned forward to press a kiss to Kevin’s brow.

"I will go get us some clean clothing. For Charlotte as well."

Kevin nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable sofa bed, which let loose a creaky sound of complaint. Just as Ray was standing up, a nurse walked in, clipboard in hand. "Sir," she said, addressing Ray, after having taken one look at Charlotte and instantly discerning their shared heritage, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Visiting hours start at nine o'clock in the morning." 

Of course. Sleep deprivation made his kind sluggish. Of course he couldn't have simply come back and shared the tiny sofa with Kevin. In his tiredness, that seemed to now be hitting him all at once, he had overlooked that. There was only one bed, and it would not do for the both of them to share it. No, that would not do at all.

He looked back at Kevin and smiled reassuringly, repeating himself: "I will be back tomorrow with clean clothing at nine o'clock sharp. Sleep well." 

As he walked out, he heard the nurse remark obliviously that Kevin sure was lucky having such a kind and caring friend. Ray didn't hear what Kevin said in response. 

-

The next morning, Charlotte was formally discharged at 9:47. After Ray had gone and picked her and Kevin up in Gertie, he phoned her parents one more time, reassuring them that everything was quite alright. They had been handed some painkillers, and throughout the day Kevin followed the doctor’s orders to the letter, unwavering attention fixed on his niece to assure himself that she was steadily recovering. Charlotte was washed to get rid of the hospital’s grime. They watched _The NeverEnding Story_ at her request and for dinner they had savoury crêpes with ice cream for dessert (“It is supposed to be good for children recovering from a migraine, Ray.”)

Everything was going alright in the Cozner-Holt household, until the evening rolled around. Charlotte had been put to bed with a few more kisses to her forehead than usual, an hour before her normal bedtime. She hadn't protested, however, and had been asleep almost as soon as Kevin switched off the mushroom-shaped light on the nightstand, with Ray leaning against the door jamb, observing.

Exactly twelve minutes later, Ray stepped out of the bathroom, a hot waft of humid air accompanying him. Kevin was sitting on the bed, back to the door. He was holding himself unnaturally still, head bowed and hands folded in his lap, almost like in prayer. 

As Ray walked up to him, he saw that Kevin's fingers were a splotchy white and red from how hard he'd been interlacing them. His hair was hanging in front of his eyes, obscuring them from view. Ray sat down on the bed, felt the mattress dip under his weight. 

"Kevin?" he asked gingerly, resting a light hand on the small of his partner's back, "Dear, what is wrong?" 

Kevin rotated a quarter circle towards him. When Ray caught his expression, he drew his partner close to him, wrapping his arms around Kevin’s stiff body. "Oh Kevin," he said, rubbing slow circles onto his back. Kevin, in return, made a small sound and buried his face in the crook of Ray's neck, breaths coming a little faster than Ray would have liked. 

"I—Raymond, I was so _scared_ ," he said—nay, _confessed_ —pressing the words into the skin covering Ray's throbbing carotid, "She was crying and then the next thing that I knew, she—she went limp in my arms. It was only for a second but I couldn't help thinking what if she doesn't wake up, I didn’t make sure she was alright before going to bed, this was all my fault. And I know it's irrational, really, I do, but I can't help thinking what if—" 

He took a couple of gulping breaths, heaved a dry sob. "Sorry, I'm being silly," he scoffed, the sound wet and slightly muffled by Ray’s skin. 

Ray made a throaty noise of disagreement. "This is quite a normal reaction to have, dear. You have just been through an atypical situation and were running high on raw emotions all throughout the unfolding events. This is just your bodily and psychological reaction to a sudden shift in mentality. You are still coming down from an emotional high. It is very common, and in no way silly."

Then, because Kevin was still visibly rattled and distressed, Ray decided to briefly chanel his grandmother, who had always known what to say and had, on top of that, had had a soft spot for Kevin from the day she’d met him: "You just take all the time you need, love," he said, pressing a kiss to the patch of skin right underneath Kevin's ear, “I am not going anywhere.”

Kevin’s rigid shoulders perceivably relaxed at the words. Ray continued to hold him until he moved away from his own accord, a slight flush dusting his cheekbones. He smiled a tentative, close-mouthed smile, and said: “Thank you, Raymond.”

Ray answered his grin in kind, and brushed a lock of Kevin’s hair out of his face. “Anytime,” he vowed, voice pitched low.

Later, they would fall asleep holding hands. It was unusual, but then it had been a rather unusual day. Just before drifting to sleep, Ray felt two barely perceptible squeezes in his right hand. _I love you_. He didn’t know if Kevin was even aware he had done it. He squeezed back, _And I you, dear_.

There wasn’t anything else to be said, really.


End file.
